She’d heard how people coming down from drugs had experienced cold turkey, but she never imagined it to be so hard. Her face throbbed continuously, and yet all Mike would give her were paracetamol and ibuprofen, along with the antibiotics. The second night was by far the worst of the beginning of a painful nightmare. Her mind was not her own; nothing that filled her brain was of her own doing. Nightmares swanned in and out, and yet she was wide awake and literally climbing the walls. Feeling ants nesting in her bones and centipedes gnawing at her brain, they drove her mad. She cried and screamed, panicked, and then collapsed. It was overwhelming and frightening. And yet there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her arms didn’t have the strength to smash down the door. Her body was wet with sweat, and her stomach steadily heaved and retched.

Curled in a ball against the wall, she stared at the piss pot, and for a moment, she wondered if she drank it, it would kill her, but her brain was too befuddled to work that one out. The windows were locked shut so she couldn’t even jump out; also, the glazing was made from toughened glass, so the panes were too hard to smash, but she wasn’t surprised because Mike had the best of everything.

She couldn’t even see what her face looked like because he had removed all the mirrors, so she was unable to use the glass to do damage to him or herself. Suddenly, she heard the front door slam shut. He was off again to visit their precious son; she knew he wouldn’t be back for hours. Nothing had changed much; he still fussed over the boy. She would have sat down and made a plan to escape or rob Mike blind; however, try as she might, her mind just drifted off to another topic or revisited dark places from the past. She closed her eyes and wished for sleep, prayed even that her brain would switch off and leave her in peace, if only for a few minutes.

***

As soon as Mike arrived on the ward, he saw the back of a suited man hovering outside Ricky’s room. He hurried along the corridor to see who it was. A nurse bade him good morning, but he was not in a talkative mood. In fact, Mike had hardly said two words to anyone except the doctor to find out how his son was doing. It was breaking his heart to see Ricky wired up to everything except the kitchen sink. No sooner had he reached the private room than the suited man turned around.

Mike sighed. ‘I wondered who you were.’

‘I need to talk with you, Mr Regan.’

Mike could see he was washed out; the bristly facial growth and dishevelled hair spoke volumes about the man’s state of mind.